Them
by Mary Kleinsmith
Summary: It used to be us against the universe. When did it become not "us," but "them"? Author's Note: this story was written awhile ago and has been on my web page, but I'm just getting to post it here.


**Them **

**by Mary Kleinsmith**

**Category: Drama, angst, h/c **

**Archive: Samandjack, heliopolis, anywhere else just let me know **

**Spoilers: Everything up to Season 8. This takes place after Zero Hour, and concludes before Affinity **

**Rating: PG **

**Content Warning: A very faint S/J, heavy angst on Jack's part **

**Summary: It used to be us against the universe. When did it become not "us," but "them"? **

**Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and all the characters belong to a bunch of other guys, not me. No copyright infringement is intended, and I made no money on this. **

**Author's Notes: I admit, I was a bit disturbed by how SG1 treated Jack when he told them they had to wait a day to go on their mission in Zero Hour. Then I remembered how Jack wasn't present when they talked about having an apartment-warming party. The rest just sort of filled itself in. (And yes, I was satisfied to be able to explain the picture moving from Jack's locker to his office. ) **

**Feedback: Yes, please, may I have more feedback? **

_It used to be us against the universe, and somehow, in my mind, "us" wasn't the entire SGC, but one small part of it. Me, Carter, Daniel, Teal'c, Jonas, General Hammond, and Doc Fraiser. We were together, one unit standing side by side. _

_Jonas has gone home, of course. I can't blame him he's doing his duty for his own world, in spite of his own desires. I could see in his eyes he wanted to stay, but Kelowna needed him, so he went. I'd never admit that I miss him, but at least he's alive out there. _

_Hammond's moved on . . . onward and upward, as they say, but it seems wrong to be here without him. He was our intrepid leader in a way I know I'll never be. I feel like I'm just keeping his seat warm for him, and he'll be back in a few days. And even if he isn't, somebody truly suitable to the position will come to fill the chair I'm occupying. _

_And then there's the Doc. Never in my worst nightmares did I imagine that the first of us to buy it in the line of duty would be this tiny but strong woman. I know I gave her a hard time, but I also know that when the chips were down, I could rely on her for everything and anything. _

_Each of these losses, in and of themselves, were manageable. They came one at a time, and I dealt with each and every one like the soldier I was trained to be. After all, I still had Daniel, Teal'c, and most importantly, Carter. Our friendships grew over seven long years, and before I knew it, everything in my life was viewed first through my own eyes and then through theirs. They became a part of me. _

_A part I wasn't sure I could ever do without. _

_I thought it would always be us.' Even if some things changed, I never dreamed this would happen. There was "us." _

_And now, instead, there's just "them." _

There had been little things first, of course. Things he should have noted, and did, but had dismissed as his own paranoia and discomfort with his new role in the SGC. He wasn't sure he was cut out for this job, or even capable of it, but because General Hammond recommended him, he was determined to try. And after all, like they'd told him, he'd have Carter, Daniel, and Teal'c for advice and support when he needed it. So they were a bit impatient to get going on their mission. He'd probably have been the same if he'd still been on the team and Hammond had been the one ordering the one-day delay. And if Daniel seemed a bit snappish, well, that was just his eagerness to defeat the Goa'uld talking. Both he and Carter tended to lose sight of what was around them when they were in the middle of a situation.

Shaking it off, he sat down behind his desk to begin his day, and the hours slowly slid away.

If he had to sign his name one more time, O'Neill swore his fingers would fall off. Glancing at the clock, he gratefully realized that it was finally time for lunch. Not that, being the General, he couldn't eat whenever he wanted, but over the years, the four members of SG1 had developed a routine of meeting in the commissary at thirteen hundred hours for lunch whenever they were on duty and on planet.

Rising, he realized he was really looking forward to a nice lunch with his friends. With everything going on, this was the first time it had been calm enough to even have a scheduled meal, and he found he'd missed it.

Walking through the halls of the SGC, he wondered if he should have "at ease" tattooed on his forehead. He'd never enjoyed having people salute him, but now, it was completely out of control. One more raised hand or set of heels clicked together and he'd go stark raving mad, he was sure. At least he'd be free of it for an hour or so while he ate the mid-day meal.

"General!" The unmistakable voice of Siler rang out from somewhere behind him, making him cringe. He took a few more steps before he gave in to the necessity of responding to the man.

"Yes, Sergeant?"

"We need to replace a couple of the flux capacitors that we took out of inventory the last time we were attacked. Would you please sign off on the requisition?"

Taking the clipboard from him, Jack scribbled his signature quickly and handed it back to Siler, biting his tongue to keep from snapping at him that it could have waited until he'd gotten back into his office. There was no point in correcting the man.

Siler skittered away with his precious clipboard, and Jack continued his trip to the commissary. By now, his friends would be through the line, but just settling down at a table.

Turning the corner, he was surprised to see Carter, Daniel, and Teal'c standing by the double swinging doors.

"So, are we ready for lunch, campers?" he asked with glee, rubbing his hands together. No big surprise that he wasn't the only one running a bit behind in his time.

"Jack!" Daniel exclaimed.

"Sir," Carter said simultaneously.

"O'Neill," Teal'c acknowledged with a simple nod of his head.

"So, what do you think the special for today is? I don't know about you folks," he kidded, patting his stomach, "but nothing builds my appetite like a morning signing forms."

He'd expected at least a smile from Carter, but it didn't come.

"Today's specials are teriyaki chicken breasts with Chinese noodles or roast chicken with mashed potatoes and gravy, O'Neill," Teal'c stated. "I can testify that the former is most satisfying."

Jack looked at them, T's words sinking in. "You already ate?"

"Sorry, Sir," Carter said with a shrug. "But I had an experiment that had to sit for an hour anyway and Daniel was at loose ends, so we decided to eat early. I'm just on my way back to my lab."

"Yeah, and Teal'c was going to help me complete this translation I'm stuck on."

Jack was at a loss as to what to say. He'd been looking forward to a nice lunch, but he couldn't bring himself to beg them to stay while he ate, just to keep him company. "Of course. I won't keep you then," he said, but he couldn't look them in the eyes. "I'll just grab something and get back to my paperwork." He knew disdain was in his tone, but if any of them noticed, they didn't comment on it.

"We'll see you later," Daniel said as the three of them filed away.

Sitting in his office with his chicken sandwich and fries, he found he couldn't keep his mind on the myriad forms awaiting his attention. Pushing away from his desk, he scanned his new office, trying to find something to occupy his mind other than the infernal paperwork.

Finding nothing, he opened the desk drawer to get his yo-yo -- never mind that the image of a Brigadier General with a toy during duty hours was less than officious -- instead his eye caught sight of a piece of newsprint.

Withdrawing it, he studied the crossword puzzle, noting the scribbled characters where it was partially completed. It was the one he'd been working on just before the final battle with Anubis. He never had finished it, but Carter had never collected on their bet.

With resolve, he sat down to finally complete the puzzle. He was determined that he would finish it.

Once again, several days later, O'Neill was tied to his desk for the entire day while he got caught up and completed the paperwork the Pentagon was demanding. Of course, along with that came interruptions from the commissary (they'd gotten drumsticks instead of chicken breasts, which were much less healthy), the janitorial staff (the Pentagon had requisitioned and provided cut-rate toilet paper that had everybody, well . . . up in arms was putting it kindly), and the new doctor (who had a complaint about replacement thermometers not being electronic).

Before he knew it, it was 2000 hours and he was long since ready to go home for some rest. Stopping in the locker room just long enough to change into civvies, he was struck by the silence of the room. He guessed that those on base had long since headed home, and wondered that nobody had thought to say goodnight.

He had barely set foot in the room when Sergeant Harriman was suddenly in front of him, a large box in his arms.

"Oh, General. I was just on my way to your office."

"Whacha got in the box, Walter?" Jack asked with a sing-song in his voice.

"Um . . . ahem . . . it's your things, sir."

"What things?" he asked, beginning to rifle through the box.

"Didn't Dr. Jackson come to talk with you?"

"I've been up to here," he waved a hand over his eyebrows, "with reports all day, so no, I haven't seen Daniel."

"It seems that, with the new teams being created and additional backup staff being assigned all the time, they ran out of lockers. Since your office has a closet as well as a private bathroom, Dr. Jackson said we could empty out your things and reassign your locker to one of the new recruits."

"He what?" Jack said, more in shock than due to any lack of comprehension. "And he didn't think it was necessary to check with me?"

"He said he was sure it would be okay," the Sergeant repeated. "I could put them back and order the removal of the new occupant's things. . ."

"No, that won't be necessary," O'Neill said quietly. "It's fine. I'll take care of this." He took the box from Harriman's arms and turned around to return to his office.

Looks like I'll be changing there from now on, he thought to himself.

Not that it was such an inconvenience, he pondered while finding his jeans and sweater in the box and quickly changing. Alongside the sweater, he'd found the photo of Charlie that had once hung in his locker. He'd have to get a frame for it, he supposed. He wanted it somewhere in the mountain with him, where he'd see it when he needed or wanted to.

It hadn't been that long since his promotion, he pondered, but he'd kept a locker in the locker room something Hammond hadn't done because he felt it kept him in touch with people of all ranks, and that it would make him seem more approachable.

But now that he'd lost it, he realized there was something else it afforded it let him feel connected to his friends. Well, those who were at one time his friends, anyway, he amended morosely.

He'd heard it said a million times. "It's lonely at the top." But never before had he believed it so intensely as he did now. If he was a stronger man, he'd call Daniel and Sam and Teal'c . . . talk it out with them and find out why it seemed he was getting the impression he was no longer worthy of their company. However, while General Jack O'Neill was perfectly capable of taking the bull by the horns in a combat situation, in his personal life, he was anything but.

Maybe he was taking all this too seriously, he told himself. Friendships drifted apart all the time through no fault or effort of those involved - it just couldn't be helped.

Still, he'd never in a million years thought it would happen to them.

He hated getting weekend duty. Graham Simmons tried not to look too unhappy as he took his place in the control center of the SGC. It wasn't that he minded doing whatever was required of him as a member of the service - hell, he'd nearly died for it more than once - but the down side of working Saturday was that almost nobody was around. And it was worse today than usual, as a good deal of the officers were attending Teal'c's apartment warming party.

He'd heard Major Carter and Dr. Jackson talking about it the day before while she was running some gate diagnostics, talking about what "pot luck" dish they were each bringing to the soiree. His one-time crush on the Major had faded to a strong respect, but he still would have liked to have some time to just talk with her. She made him feel like more than just a lowly, one-time-lovelorn junior officer - like he was respected.

Unlike the earlier years of the SGC, they'd managed a schedule that kept activity over the weekends to a minimum. Teams were set to return no later than Friday evening, and no new teams were sent out until Monday morning unless there was an emergency situation. But there had to be somebody on duty at all times, just in case.

The first two hours dragged. His checkbook was balanced in the first twenty minutes, he ran every diagnostic he could think of after that, and ran through the air force regulations manual front to back. He was dying to ask out Jennifer Hailey, but he wanted to be sure it wasn't against regulations before he did it.

"Hey, Rob," he said to the only other person around, a marine who'd strolled by. "Could you watch the gate while I go for a walk?" It was the unwritten code for having to use the restroom, so Rob agreed with a quick nod, joining him behind the console. "I'll be back in a few minutes," Graham added unnecessarily.

"Don't get lost," Rob warned him cautiously. "If this thing was to go off, I wouldn't have a clue what to do with it."

"I won't be far," Simmons assured.

The halls were quiet, and he quickly made his way to the men's room and took care of business. On the way back, he was surprised to hear a familiar voice.

"Aw, crap!"

He knew from where it had come, and was taken by surprise. Approaching the office, he saw the light spilling from the doorway before he went forward to knock on the frame.

"General?"

"Hey, Simmons," General O'Neill muttered from his desk, his head bent over some paperwork.

"Excuse me, Sir. I didn't expect to find you here today."

"Paperwork waits for no man, Lieutenant, most especially newly-appointed Generals."

"Sorry, sir," Simmons said, not knowing what else to say. It was general knowledge that paperwork wasn't O'Neill's forte, but it was an inevitable part of running a base like the SGC.

"Something going on in the Gateroom?" Jack questioned.

"Oh, nothing, sir. I was just taking a little break. Is there anything I can do for you, Sir? I'm sure you're eager to finish up here and be on your way."

"Now what else would I have to do on a bright, sunny day like today?" he asked, almost as if daring the young man to say anything about the party going on in his absence.

Could it be he wasn't planning on attending? He certainly didn't sound happy. "Nothing, Sir," Graham said, fearing he'd overstepped his boundaries. "If you'll excuse me, I'll just get back to the control room."

"You do that, Simmons," O'Neill said, waving the young man back to his duties.

Jack knew that the lieutenant had only the best of intentions, but he really didn't want to talk about it right now. The SGC was a very small place, and there weren't many secrets that were kept for very long. He was only too aware of what the remainder of his former team was doing at the moment, and as soon as he let it flit through his mind, a small voice would repeat what he'd been thinking since he'd first heard about the party. He hadn't been invited.

He could hardly believe it. Seven years as good friends, and suddenly, he was on the outside looking in. They'd all be there, celebrating. Daniel would probably have brought Sarah along if she'd been available. Pete would be there with Sam.

Suddenly, a stabbing pain in his stomach made him wonder if it wasn't for the best. That was something he didn't particularly want to face, even if he was wanted there, which didn't appear to be the case. So while Carter, Daniel, and Teal'c celebrated the latter's new apartment, he sat at the office and did paperwork.

He could almost hate them. Almost, but not quite. He'd accepted the position, he'd made himself their commander and removed himself from their day-to-day lives, so a small voice inside him said that it was part of what he'd signed on for. How many times had the four of them gathered at his own house for a day of enjoyment where they'd never even entertained the thought of inviting Hammond? What made him think that he had the right to be treated any differently than the General had?

But, a second voice told him that he *was* different from Hammond and it *was* a special case. Hammond had never been teammates with any of them, and their "team" days never included others from the SGC except, on occasion, Janet and Cassie. He'd heard airmen whose names he could barely remember discussing the celebration, talking about bringing a housewarming gift and visiting for a short time. It seemed the length of people's stay would be proportionate to how close they were to Teal'c, but each and every one of them mentioned the man or Carter or Daniel having invited them. Verbally, of course - this type of party didn't lend to formal written invitations - but they were each asked to come, welcomed, while not one word had been said to Jack about the party even taking place.

He wanted to be there, but this was his place now. A place he'd have to learn to accept and become accustomed to. It would be his hardest lesson to date in his new position, but what choice did he have?

It was the dinner hour before Simmons was able to finish his shift and go to the party himself, still thinking a great deal about the one forgotten friend deep in the bowels of the mountain. He felt for the General, knowing that he would have been there if there wasn't a very good reason.

Knocking on the door, Teal'c opened it a moment later.

"Welcome, Lieutenant," he said with a smile that was a bit frightening. "Feel free to help yourself to the food in the kitchen area."

"I'll take this back," Graham said, nodding to the antipasto he'd brought. Teal'c nodded his acceptance and pointed the way, returning to conversing with some of the other guests. As he walked, his eyes scanned the crowd, hoping to spy a blonde head. The apartment couldn't possibly hold any more people, and was certainly breaking fire code, but he wasn't about to be the one who pointed that out.

As he entered the kitchen, he observed that every horizontal surface held some sort of food item. Everything from chips to hot dogs to casseroles was represented - there was no way that a guest couldn't find *something* he or she liked in the hodgepodge.

"Good to see you, Lieutenant," came a feminine voice over his shoulder, and he turned to face the recently-promoted Lt. Colonel Carter. "It's about time you got here," she smiled kindly.

"Well, somebody had to hold down the fort, ma'am," he responded, unable to keep from returning her smile.

"Who replaced you on gate duty?" she asked conversationally.

"Harriman was scheduled, but he was late, so the General told me he'd hold down the fort until he finally got in."

A dark shadow fell over Carter's face, her brows dropping into a frown.

"General O'Neill was there? On duty?" She blushed, realizing that she hadn't even noticed Jack's absence.

"Yeah, he's been there all day. He said he had paperwork to work on, and nothing better to do." Simmons flinched visibly.

"Oh, my God." Sam turned from the young man as if he'd never been there, her eyes scanning the crowd for Daniel or Teal'c. After a few minutes, she spotted the latter, chatting with a woman she didn't recognize.

It took some work to get to him, but eventually, she was at his side. "Teal'c."

"Yes, ColonelCarter?"

"The General's not here."

"I am aware," he responded, his tone expressing his displeasure. "I very much hoped he would attend, but feared he would avoid it."

"I thought for sure he would, too. What would he be trying to avoid?"

"He may have been concerned that PeteShanahan would be in attendance. I can think of no other reason . . ."

"Well, I can, but I hope I'm wrong. Where's Daniel?"

"I last saw him near the bedroom chatting with Sergeant Siler."

"Good, c'mon. We gotta find him."

A few minutes later - made much longer by the over-packed apartment - they discovered Daniel and dragged him into Teal'c spare bedroom. It was going to be his workout room, but was so-far empty except for a mat.

"Sam, what is it?" Daniel asked, exasperated at having been torn from his conversation.

"Please tell me that one of you two invited General O'Neill."

Three faces fell as they looked at each other, shrugging.

"I thought you asked him," Daniel said to Teal'c.

"I believed that Colonel Carter was going to speak to him," Teal'c defended himself.

"And I thought that you had, Daniel, so we're all even."

"Well, Jack was there when we first brought up the idea of an apartment warming. He should have known . . ."

"No, Daniel," Sam corrected. "He didn't come into the lab until after we'd finished talking about it. He didn't know there was going to be a party. He's been so involved in the details of his new duties . . ." Her voice tapered off, a rock forming in her stomach.

"Okay, now we've got a problem. We screwed up." Daniel looked as miserable as she felt.

"Can we not call O'Neill now and explain?"

"Explain what, Teal'c?" Daniel asked. "Explain how we forgot him? We're supposed to be his friends."

"Maybe he hasn't heard about the party, and if we just don't say anything, he'll never know." It was a reach and she knew it.

"How could he not know, Sam? We invited everybody at the SGC, and even some of the NORAD people. He had to have heard about it."

"He must feel terrible," Carter said sadly. "We forgot him!"

"I hate to say this, but it could be even worse," Daniel said.

"How could this be any worse, DanielJackson?" Teal'c asked.

"He may not think we forgot him. He may think that he was intentionally left out."

"Why would he think that?" Sam asked, shocked.

"Remember the other day in the briefing room? When we wanted to go on that reconnaissance mission?"

"How could I forget? What a disaster that turned out to be!"

"It was just as much a disaster for O'Neill as it was for us, I believe. Perhaps more so," Teal'c added.

"I know, I heard all about it, although Jack would never have told us all of it. It was very hard on him. But even before we left, we were less than understanding about the delayed departure. As a matter of fact, looking back on it, we were downright rude."

"So?" Sam said defensively. "It's not like he's never been impatient over an embarkation before."

"Yes, but he's never behaved like we did. We were impatient brats, Sam!" The revelation was obviously getting to the archeologist. "He was on the phone with General Hammond, and we sniped at him as if he made us wait while he was playing with his yo-yo."

"I'm sure he wouldn't take it to heart, Daniel," Carter said, although the guilt she was feeling was obvious.

"Perhaps not at the time, but after he wasn't invited, how do we know he didn't think that he was excluded on purpose?"

"He wouldn't . . ."

"I think it's possible he would, Colonel Carter," Teal'c said.

Daniel nodded. "Look, this adjustment has been hard on all of us, but we may have forgotten that it's been hardest on Jack. He was never the administrative type, and if you'll remember, we helped push him into taking the promotion."

"But he deserved it, Daniel!" Carter said fervently.

"Yes, he did. But that doesn't necessarily mean he *wanted* it. We helped him decide that . . ."

"And the minute he did, we started to treat him differently," Sam realized, her face sad.

"It was necessary - he is now commander," Teal'c said, trying to justify in his own way.

"Yes, he is. But he's still our friend. And I, for one, hope that we'll be friends longer than any of us are at SGC."

"Among the Jaffa, only traitorous actions can sever a friendship. This is one practice I intend to continue until the end of my days."

"Unfortunately, Teal'c, on earth there are many things that can estrange a friendship. It's a failing of being such an emotional race."

"I see no reason why our friendship with O'Neill should be estranged. We must go and speak with him."

"Maybe one of us should stay here," Carter suggested. "Keep an eye on the party." It was obvious to both men that she was talking about herself.

"Samantha Carter, I would have never pegged you for a coward," Daniel said in shock.

"It's not cowardice, Daniel. We all know that it's not just the change in command structure that's put a strain on my relationship with the General lately. I think it might be best if I stay out of it."

"As the leader of SG1, I believe that ill advised," Teal'c said sternly. "He is still our commander and friend, regardless of your personal situation and some of the choices you have made." It was clear his tone was disapproving.

"Teal'c, can we please not get into this now?" Sam asked.

"If we must, but the situation with O'Neill needs to be addressed. If he goes to sleep tonight believing that we did not want him here, I fear the rift will never be mended."

"Which brings us right back to where we were - do we go find him, and admit we forgot him?"

"He'll feel almost as bad as if he hadn't been invited."

"Then we'll apologize," Daniel said. "We'll beg his forgiveness, and ask him to come with us. We'll do whatever groveling we need to do, but we'll fix this." He paused for a moment, looking around. "Major Gant can keep an eye on the festivities until we get back."

Teal'c and Sam nodded in agreement, moving towards the door. It was going to be one of their toughest missions ever.

The SGC was dark, the lighting adjusted for the weekend and night hours. Labs were vacant, hallways quiet except for an occasional patrol, and the only light seemed to come from the control room, where Harriman was quietly on duty. If he was surprised to see them when they peeked around the corner, he didn't say so, nodding to the trio and returning to his reports.

Only when they entered the briefing room did they see any sign of life in the General's office - that being a faint light. Exchanging a look, they couldn't seem to help looking at their feet as they walked to the doorway. They'd felt a lot of things over the years, but this was the first time they were purely ashamed.

As they drew closer, they realized the light was coming from a small desk lamp. The meager light barely illuminated the man sitting beside it, his face a blank and his eyes closed. They'd almost have thought him asleep, except for the nervous twitch in his fingers and a facial muscle every few seconds.

"He's asleep," Daniel whispered. "Maybe we should come back later."

"Daniel, don't be a wuss," Sam snapped uncharacteristically. "We made this mess, and we've got to clean it up. Now."

"Colonel Carter is correct," Teal'c agreed. "We have been grievously unthinking of O'Neill's feelings. We must confront this before the situation grows worse."

"How much worse can it get?" Daniel asked with a heavy sigh.

"If we don't fix this now," Sam whispered, "we'll never be able to. If we know anything about the General, it's that he doesn't forget when somebody crosses him. Personally, I'd like to try to save our friendship."

"Do you really think it's that imperiled?"

"Think about it, Daniel. When was the last time we were at his house? When we went out for drinks or dinner? I can't remember the last time he stopped at my lab just to shoot the breeze."

"He joined us for lunch the other day," Daniel said defensively.

"He *tried* to join us for lunch. But we'd gone early and not bothered to tell him, so he ate by himself."

"I concur that we need to talk to O'Neill," Teal'c agreed. "We owe him our regrets, and wishes to mend our relationship."

"I'm not arguing with you on that point," Daniel stated. "I just don't know if it'll do any good."

"We just have to hope that he's not as inflexible as we're fearing," Sam said.

They crept across the conference room floor to O'Neill's door, where it was cracked open about six inches. Carefully, Daniel pushed it open all the way.

There was a moment where the trio stood just inside his door in silence, their presence not acknowledged by Jack. It wasn't a good sign.

"Hey, Jack," Daniel said, reminding the General so much of the first time an ascended Daniel appeared to him in Ba'al's fortress.

Knowing what he'd see, Jack raised his face to take in his former team. He wished he could think of them as his friends, but even that seemed to be a misnomer at this point.

"Fancy meeting you here, Dr. Jackson," Jack said with half a smile.

Daniel, for the first time in history, didn't seem to know what to say.

"Don't you have somewhere to be?" Jack asked, trying to hide the hurt he knew was obvious in his tone.

"Sir, we're so sorry," Sam said, her face looking remorseful. He wished he knew if he could believe it. She could be quite the actress when needed.

"Whatever for, Colonel Carter? Your last mission went swimmingly." He'd be damned if he was going to make this easy on them. Jack O'Neill may go down, but he would always go down fighting.

"It's not about the mission, Jack," she said. It was a rare occasion when she used his first name. "We each thought the other had invited you to the housewarming."

"Yes, O'Neill," Teal'c said. "Please accept our apologies for our error. My apartment warming would not be complete without your presence."

"I don't know, Teal'c," Jack said. "I've got an awful lot of work to catch up on." Not so suddenly, he didn't feel like socializing.

Daniel looked contrite, but slightly irritated. "C'mon, Jack. We're sorry for everything. When we realized you weren't coming . . . well, I know that I haven't been as understanding as I could have been while you were settling into your new role. A good friend would have been more understanding than I have been."

"The same goes for me, Sir," Sam said, looking at her feet again. "I've been too involved in the changes in my own . . ."

Jack felt for sure she was going to say "life."

". . . Career," she continued. "I just didn't think . . ."

"Nobody would expect you to, Carter," he said, knowing that it was lip service. *He* expected them all to consider his position, but they hadn't.

"Please come back to the party with us," she entreated, her large eyes nearly begging.

Jack sighed, looking around the dim office. "I don't know, guys. It's awfully late."

"Many still remain, O'Neill. They would all like to see you."

"You sure it's not going to cramp their style, having the general' attend?"

"When did General Hammond's presence ever impede our parties in the past?" Daniel asked. He'd been uncharacteristically silent.

"Please, sir." He never could deny her when she used that voice, although these days, he hated himself for it. What he felt for her was no longer reciprocated. Why couldn't he get past it?

Sighing, he realized that he couldn't. It just wasn't who he was.

"Well, I guess this could probably wait until tomorrow."

"Tomorrow's Sunday, Sir," she pointed out.

"The price of the promotion, Colonel," he said, stating a fact as he rose from his chair. Most people didn't realize he'd worked every weekend since his promotion, but he didn't normally work this late into the night.

"C'mon, Jack," Daniel said with a wave of his hand. "Please."

Clicking off the desk lamp, Jack went with them, hoping for an enjoyable evening. They'd apologized, and he'd accepted, but the fact still remained that they'd forgotten him. It was his life now, though, and he'd have to learn to accept it. He was on the outside, to be invited in from time to time.

But for one evening, maybe he'd have the chance to once again be a part of "them."

The End


End file.
